Ah, the final chapter. Just wanted to say thank yo to everyone who has been reading and reviewing and favoriting and following. I know I normally do shout outs, but it's been a busy week. So just know I love you all, and thank you so much for the support!

Also, I should note, I don't own anything. Lame, I know.

Deprived- Chapter Three:

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Sherlock had managed to convince Molly she should have a warm bath, along with a cup of tea. Molly seemed apprehensive of the tea at first, until she learned that it was made by Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock sat in the other room, while his pathologist and the elder lady occupied his bedroom. He understood the unconscious need for a maternal figure to be present as the young lady attempted to sleep. Currently, he sat across from John, who was sighing warily.

''The pictures are, well, they're awful Sherlock. You may not want to look.'' John said as he handed him the file. Molly's name was on the slightly tattered corner, and the detective carefully opened it. Immediately, he could see what John meant. The Polaroids were far too intact, considering their age. Sherlock picked up the small pile, flicking through them in rapid succession. One after the other, the photos shows the extensive damage this man had done to the girl in the picture. Her mousy brown hair was attend in a spot by dried blood. The bruises on her swollen face made her almost unrecognizable. The dried tears on her vacant face made her seem as though she weren't in that body at all. Finally, the report underneath the photos. It painted a much worse picture than any photo could capture. Sherlock felt himself seething with rage, ready to destroy the monster who did this. John could see the building up emotions behind his friend's eyes, and it had nearly frightened him. Sherlock closed the folder, and tossed it back to John. He stood, and immediately flipped out his phone. John knew it was serious, as he heard the sober words leave Sherlock's lips.

''Mycroft, I need your help with something.''

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Molly tossed and turned, trying to get into a comfortable position. She was currently willing herself to stay awake, despite the many requests by Mrs. Hudson, John, and Sherlock, for her to get some rest. Molly knew she was being silly, knew that she was ultimately bringing herself harm, but she couldn't put herself through that nightmare. Not again. She nuzzled herself further into Sherlock's pillow, breathing in his scent. It was calming, soothing to her nerves. She soon found herself battling to keep her eyes open, and with a few more breaths and inhaling his aroma, Molly fell asleep.

OoOo

He was watching the telly, when the door busted in. Immediately, he stood, coming face to face with at least five heavily armed men. He raised his arms high in the air, eyes widening with terror. Soon, a fine-suited an walked through the door, his inquisitive brow hiking up as he gazed at the humble dwelling. He soon laid eyes on the an being held at gunpoint, and made a sneer of disgust.

''Bill Kuffler. You're presence is required, immediately.'' He said. Bill made a move of protest, and was immediately handcuffed.

''You can't do this! I served my time, you don't have any power to do this!" Bill shouted at the man. He slowly walked toward him, and lowered his tall height down, so he was face to face.

''Oh, but I do.'' He said. Sooner than Bill could protest, he was being carted outside and thrown into the back of an armored vehicle. In front of him walked the man with the nice suit, swirling an umbrella around his hand as he walked.

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Molly woke with a screech. It had been the last day. The day she finally escaped. One of the worst. Soon, John was rushing through the door. He looked around the room, clearly the secondary nature of his military past kicking in. He then looked to Molly, who had tears threatening to spill out from her eyes. She bit her lip, and looked up at him. He sighed, before walking over to sit next to her on the large bed. Molly sighed, and dropped her head back onto the pillow.

''I'm sorry, John. I must seem like such a child to you.'' Molly spoke quietly from her position. John looked down at her, his face quirked in a look of half shock, half amusement. Before she knew what was happening, she was keelhauled into the surprisingly strong doctor's arms. He hugged her tightly to him, breathing out softly.

''Molly, I am so, so sorry. That never should happen to anyone. Especially such a sweet girl like you.'' His words were muffled by her shoulder, and suddenly Molly caught on.

''John, it's not your fault. I was a kid. I didn't even know you.'' She smiled a bit after a moment, and John's face pulled away. She could tell he was fighting off the tears, and it made her almost happy to know that someone cared.

''Wh..where's Sherlock?" She felt compelled to ask. John's face grew sober again, but she couldn't help but notice the slight grin that wanted to take over.

''He's uh...he's gone to sort things out.'' John said, his head nodding in a curt fashion. Molly thought on his words, and her eyes grew wide at the understanding. 'Make that someones.' She thought.

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Bill was thrown into a dimly lit room, and he searched for the switch along the wall. Suddenly, a booming and low voice started to speak very familiar words.

''My Dearest Molly,
I have not forgotten you, even during these long years away. I now you were just a scared, young girl, and that you didn't mean to do what you did. I forgive you...Well, how thoughtful of you.'' The voice was dripping with disdain, and soon, the lights flashed bright before Bill's eyes. He was slammed into a chair, and as he looked up, he came face to face with the pale, cold face of Sherlock Holmes.

''Wh..who are you?" He asked nervously, watching the letter twirl around in his hands.

''I am someone who considers this young lady crucial to my work. I do not appreciate people tampering with the emotions of those who I value, as there are very, very few of them.'' His voice was deep, the beginning growl akin to a hungry jungle cat, right before it leaps into action and attacks its choice prey. Bill looked around for the nearest exit. There seemed to be none. He looked back to Sherlock, and said nothing.

''So, here you sit. A free man. Meanwhile, across London, there lies a woman, who is still being haunted by the memories of what you did to her as a child. You know, I may not agree with the sentiment of believing in any sort of higher being, but I can say I still agree with some of the moral teachings that those people hold. For instance...'' Sherlock slid his chair back, before walking around the room, his sleeves being pushed up, to reveal lean arm muscles. He pushed Bill's chair back as well, but forced him to remain seated by a quick shove on the man's shoulder.

''Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'' He said, before slamming his fist into the side of Bill's face. The older man spit on the floor as he regained breath, and looked up with a groan of pain, just in time to receive a blow to the other side.

''Turn the other cheek.'' Sherlock hissed out as he hit Bill again and again. He glanced to the clock on the wall. 'Three minutes left.' He thought. It was what he had negotiated, and e was going to take full advantage of it. Next came the crop from his coat pocket. He flicked it out, and smiled devilishly at the now terrified looking Bill.

''You know, Mr. Kuffler, you look like a logical man. I wonder if you'd mind assisting me in an experiment? The hypothesis I have is that you are smart enough to realize you should have stayed away from Molly Hooper. Let's see if I'm correct.'' Sherlock gave a smirk, before he began beating upon the groaning and crying man repeatedly. The clock ticked away, and he had one minute left. Sherlock stopped upon hearing the sobbing, bloodied mess of a man cry out for mercy.

''Fine. I will stop. But don't think that this will be anything worse than what they can and will do to you in prison.'' Sherlock stood up, retrieved his coat, and left, just as the hidden door was opening. Soon, Bill was being hauled from the room, and to a much more permanent residency.

OoOo

Molly decided to wait for Sherlock to return. She didn't want to go back to sleep without knowing he was safe. She heard the muffled talking of the two men outside the door, and soon Sherlock was quietly peeking his head through the bedroom door. Molly smiled weakly at him, and he entered the room completely.

''You should be resting.'' He said, making his way across the room to her side. Molly shrugged, giving him a look he knew all too well to mean, 'I can't'. He sat aside her on his large mattress, and sighed heavily. Molly looked to him, waiting for him to mention the visit.

''You won't be bothered by him anymore. I've been ensured he won't be able to contact you ever again.'' Sherlock's voice said. Molly's head tilted to the side, and a smile grew over her soft features. Before Sherlock, or Molly herself, realized what was happening, she had managed to hop up into a crouching position. Her arms threw themselves around his neck, and she pressed her lips to his high cheekbone. Molly rested there a moment, simply muttering 'thank you' into his ear over and over again. Sherlock grinned, and nodded his head. He again told her she needed rest, which she still seemed afraid to do.

''Would you...would you mind staying with me? Just...just for tonight? Please?" Her small, meek voice called out as he was near the doorway. Sherlock turned to her, before sighing and nodding in agreement once more. He discarded his shoes and suit coat by his closet, and was soon on the other side of her all frame. He slid effortlessly under the blankets, and he reached up to turn the bedside lamp off. Soon, he felt her body snuggle into his side, and Sherlock couldn't help but wrap his arms around her, completing the embrace.

''Goodnight, Sherlock. Thank you. Thank you so, so much.'' Molly's voice whispered quietly, and he listened to her yawn. After a few moments, he could make out the steady pattern of her breathing, the loosened grip on his torso, and the idle curling of her delicate fingers Sherlock leaned over, kissing the top of her head before he whispered to her.

''Good night, Molly Hooper. Sweet dreams.''

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Well, there's that! Happy ending to a sad story. Hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a note and tell me what you thought, okay?